


Good Flirting

by toyhto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Geralt is being an idiot, Getting Together, M/M, Really I can't write him any other way, oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: Geralt needs Jaskier to come to a party with him. As his date.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 155
Kudos: 1131
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	Good Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Geralt is being an idiot in a party, Jaskier has suffered a lot but at least he's going to have some good time now, Geralt's hair gets complimented a lot and they talk about fucking. Theoretically, of course. Because they aren't in love with each other or anything like that. And, oh, no one cried during sex. Maybe. But in a good way.
> 
> You can say hi to me on [tumblr](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Translation to Russian available [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9079024)!

“Jaskier, I need you to do something for me.”  
  
Jaskier stopped whatever it was that he had been doing with his lute and turned to Geralt. “What did you say?”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. He had given the issue so much thought beforehand that now he had a headache. If there had been any other way to solve his problem, he wouldn’t have asked anything of Jaskier. He had known that when he would ask Jaskier, Jaskier would get happy about it and let Geralt know he was happy, and then Geralt would have such a hard time trying to ignore him, which was what he mostly tried to do when they were travelling together. And they seemed to be travelling together all the time.  
  
He had been right.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, sounding intolerably happy, “I can’t _believe_ it. We’ve been travelling together for _ages_ now and you’ve never needed me to do _anything._ ”  
  
“I’ve needed you to –“  
  
“Be quiet, I know, multiple times. But besides that, Geralt, it’s like you don’t need me _at all._ ”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath. He definitely didn’t need the bard at all. Except for now, of course.  
  
“I’m going to make a song about this,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Please don’t,” Geralt said and cleared his throat. “Do you want me to tell you what I need you to do?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “absolutely. Anything. Or almost anything, because there’s a lot of stuff I don’t do, especially the kind of stuff that puts you into an exceptionally unpleasant prison. So, if you’re looking for someone to do that kind of things for you, I’d recommend you keep on looking. Not that I would like that. I would be a little jealous, actually. We’ve been travelling together for _ages,_ Geralt. I’ve grown quite fond of you, as you might have noticed.”  
  
Geralt bit his lip. “Yes. Well, there’s a party.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “What?”  
  
“A party,” Geralt said as patiently as he was able to, which wasn’t much. “A gathering of people.”  
  
“I know what a party is,” Jaskier said, “I just… _what?_ ”  
  
“I need you to go there.”  
  
Jaskier just stared at him.  
  
“With me.”  
  
Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned a little closer. Maybe he was losing his eyesight. That would have actually explained a lot of things. Geralt took a step closer as well so that they were standing face to face, which wasn’t ideal, but he really didn’t want to say this more than once.  
  
“As my date,” he said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, trying to put on his shirt and following Geralt around the room at the same time. “Geralt, you need to tell me a bit more. I know I’m a respected bard and a very admirable date, but I always thought you didn’t care about that. Or about dating. Or about me, really. So excuse me for being a little confused about this.”  
  
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, “be quiet and get dressed.” The bard had managed to put on his shirt but now he was following Geralt with no trousers.  
  
“Have you been lonely? Because I’ve seen it in your eyes. Lately, you’ve had this specific glint. The _lonely_ glint. Is that it? You should’ve said something, Geralt. I could’ve, I don’t know, hold your hand. It would’ve been no trouble at all.”  
  
Geralt took a deep breath. Earlier, after he had asked Jaskier to come to the party as his date, Jaskier had fallen quiet for almost five minutes. That had been perfect. But clearly Geralt had run out of his luck now. “I’m not lonely.”  
  
“Horny, then? Because if you expect that you and me -,” Jaskier waved his hand in between Geralt and himself, “do something to fix that -,” and Jaskier made a hand gesture Geralt would’ve preferred never to see, “you could just say it. Asking me to be your date is kind of, I don’t know, very sweet, but if you’re just trying to get laid -“  
  
“I’m not fucking trying to get laid,” Geralt said and bit his lip. “Fuck.”  
  
“Because I’m not saying that I wouldn’t,” Jaskier said, pointing his finger at Geralt, “but I never thought you’d be shy about asking.”  
  
“ _Jaskier_ ,” Geralt said.  
  
Perhaps he said it a little louder than he had meant to, because Jaskier froze.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“No, that’s…” Jaskier turned and walked away from him. He should’ve felt relief, but it only made him angrier. He watched with some kind of disappointment as Jaskier put on his trousers, his back still turned to Geralt. “That’s just fine,” he said. “I’ll be your date. You don’t need to tell me what it’s about.”  
  
“I just can’t bear it,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. “You can’t bear what?”  
  
“People,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “That’s hardly news.”  
  
“I can’t bear it when people come and talk to me.”  
  
Now there was something weird about the way Jaskier looked at him. “Oh, Geralt…”  
  
“I have to be in this party because otherwise we won’t get paid.”  
  
“You won’t get paid,” Jaskier said in a soft tone that was terribly frustrating and also kind of nice. “ _You_ killed the monster that was living in their well.”  
  
“You helped me,” Geralt said. Jaskier had helped him by shouting at him when the creature had been sneaking to him behind his back. And afterwards, Jaskier had cleaned the wound in his thigh and said nothing about the way he had shivered. It had been because of the cold. Or possibly pain. Or both. “Anyway, I need to go there tonight. But people always come to talk to me.”  
  
“It’s because of your hair,” Jaskier said. He sounded like he was genuinely sorry.  
  
“I can’t stand it,” Geralt said. He hadn’t meant to say anything. He never meant to say anything to Jaskier and still somehow it sometimes happened that he found himself talking to Jaskier about things he should have never talked about to anyone. Like, how irritating it was that he had lately had this muscle cramps, or how he sometimes had this dream in which he was a horse-sized bid.  
  
And now he had already started talking. And Jaskier was looking at him silently for once, and what was the harm, really? It wasn’t like Jaskier would make songs about the stuff Geralt told him and sing them to everyone.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
“You know that I’ll come with you happily,” Jaskier said, “but can’t you just tell them to fuck off? You always tell me to fuck off.”  
  
“No, it’s… there’re too many.” Geralt took a deep breath. “And I can tell you to fuck off because you’re following me around the continent and sleeping in my fucking bed most of the time. But I can’t tell people to fuck off from a party that’s not mine. And it’s not even that’s, it’s…”  
  
“What, Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a tone that reminded Geralt of the unfortunate occasion when he had had a spike of a rare, poisonous species of roses in his left buttock and he had had some difficulties trying to ask Jaskier to remove it.  
  
“It’s the flirting.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “Flirting? Geralt, you’re shit at flirting. You’re the worst I’ve ever –“  
  
“No,” Geralt said, “they come to talk to me and flirt with me. I can’t stand it. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t tell them to fucking leave me alone and I can’t definitely kill them. I don’t know what to do about it.”  
  
Jaskier chewed on his lower lip. “I didn’t think you noticed it when people flirt at you. You always look like you just want to go somewhere alone and die.”  
  
“Because I want to go somewhere alone and die,” Geralt said.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said, “you always look like that. That’s why I didn’t think you could tell the difference.”  
  
“I don’t always look like that.”  
  
“Well, maybe sometimes when you’re talking to me, you don’t look like that. Or when you’re talking to Roach, of course. I don’t understand what Roach has done to win your heart.”  
  
“She’s a horse.”  
  
“And you sometimes smile in your sleep,” Jaskier said. “It’s odd. But in a good way. I’ve thought about making a song about it. But anyway, what do you want me to do about it? The flirting, I mean? Should I flirt at them for your behalf?”  
  
“No,” Geralt said quickly, “absolutely not. Don’t flirt. I mean, you should flirt with me.”  
  
Jaskier frowned.  
  
“I mean, you should look like you’re there with me,” Geralt said and cleared his throat, “ _really_ with me, like…”  
  
“Like we’re a couple.”  
  
“Yes. So that I -”  
  
“A romantic couple.”  
  
“ _Yes._ So, what I need -”  
  
“Boyfriends,” Jaskier said slowly. “Or soulmates. Just two lonely heroes who’ve fallen in love, riding through the wilderness, slaying monsters and making love by the campfire.”  
  
“Yes. Fine. Jaskier –“  
  
“Partners,” Jaskier said. ”Spouses. Husbands -”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier, I just need you to kiss me.”  
  
Jaskier froze, his mouth half-open. Unfortunately, the silence didn’t last long. “Kiss you?”  
  
“If it comes to that,” Geralt said. “Only if it comes to that. But if those people come to flirt at me, you should look like you’re my date. Maybe kiss me or hold my hand or something, whatever it is that you do with your lovers.”  
  
“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier said, “you don’t want me to do _that._ Not in public.”  
  
“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Geralt said. “Just try to look like you’re in love with me.”  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth, then closed it, which was weird, then straightened his back. “Luckily I’m a very good actor.”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said. “That’s good. Now, can we go?”  
  
“Just don’t flinch if I kiss you,” Jaskier said. “It’s not going to look convincing.”  
  
“I never _flinch_ ,” Geralt said.  
  
“Of course,” Jaskier said. Good. For once, the bastard didn’t argue. Geralt took a deep breath and sat down in a bench to do his shoelaces. Jaskier did something odd with his trousers for a second. It looked like he was trying to adjust the front. Geralt ignored him and focused on the shoelaces, and then he flinched so that he almost fell off the bench, when Jaskier walked by him and suddenly stroked his hair.  
  
  
**  
  
  
The party was as hateful as they always were, only it was slightly more bearable this time, because Jaskier was always by Geralt’s side like a tiny useless bodyguard. And it was possible Geralt was leaning towards Jaskier as well. It was only practical. That way people wouldn’t come to flirt at him. He could have a few pints of ale in peace with his bard and then go and ask the king to finally give him the fucking coin and let him out of his misery. Not by those words. And then he and Jaskier could go back to the inn and have a good night’s sleep in their bed that was actually quite big for once, and tomorrow morning, they would ride the fuck out of here.  
  
“Geralt of Rivia?”  
  
He blinked. A young woman was closing on him. She was wearing a crown, so he probably should have known who she was.  
  
“I thought it was you,” the woman said with a tiny smile. She seemed very pretty and lovable and like a considerably smart person who was going to have a good life if only she had a little luck. She was exactly the kind of a person Geralt tried to stay away from, besides that of course he tried to stay away from everyone. Except for Jaskier, of course. But that was because Jaskier followed him everywhere.  
  
“I was hoping I’d have a chance to talk with you,” the woman said, raising her hand. Geralt stared at the hand. It almost looked like the woman was going to -  
  
Brush her fingers against Geralt’s arm.  
  
Geralt opened his mouth to say something, anything that would get him out of the situation, when suddenly Jaskier was beside him. Well, Jaskier had been standing by his side all this time, but now Jaskier was _leaning_ against him, his arm wrapped around Geralt’s back and the other reaching to shake hands with the woman. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Hi. I’m Jaskier. I’m his bard. Well, I’m not _only_ his bard -,” he tugged Geralt by his shirt. It seemed to mean that he wanted Geralt to come closer to him, so Geralt did. Jaskier fit quite nicely in his side. “Nice to meet you, lady -”  
  
The lady said her name. Geralt wasn’t really listening. He put his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier was very warm.  
  
“A nice party,” Jaskier was saying. “Geralt and I, we usually spend all our time alone. Mostly in bed, you know. Because he’s slaying monsters all the time, and in between, he really doesn’t have much energy for anything else. Anyway, the weather has been nice lately, hasn’t it? Geralt, say something to the lady.”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said and grunted. “The weather.”  
  
“He’s not very social,” Jaskier said to the woman, shaking his head. “He’s so lucky he found me, otherwise I’m afraid that he might’ve been grumpy and lonely forever.”  
  
“I think I should go,” the lady said, turned and walked away.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. Geralt could feel it, because he was still holding Jaskier as close to him as was possible.  
  
“It must be because of your hair,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice, “there’s really no other reason why they’d come to flirt at you. You were _terrible._ You just stared at her and looked like you wanted to die.”  
  
“I did,” Geralt said, although that wasn’t entirely true.  
  
“It’s the hair,” Jaskier said and patted him on his back before stepping away from him. “I need another drink.”  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, putting his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and squeezing. Then he pulled his hand away and shook it. “Shit, I think I broke a joint.”  
  
“Don’t try to squeeze my shoulders.”  
  
“Maybe you should stop working out,” Jaskier said. “You’re getting hard as a rock.”  
  
“I’m not working out,” Geralt said. “It’s my mutations. I can’t help it.”  
  
“Sure,” Jaskier said. “What I was going to tell you before you broke my hand was that the young man in the corner is eyeing you.”  
  
Geralt glanced around. “The one in a red shirt?”  
  
“Great,” Jaskier said and took a deep breath, “now he thinks you were checking him out.”  
  
“I wasn’t.”  
  
“I was trying to warn you,” Jaskier said, “you know, not to smile at him or anything, unless you want him to hit on you.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “And why would I want him to hit on me?”  
  
Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you like men.”  
  
“I don’t like _people._ And I told you I wanted you in this party with me so that you can kiss me and people won’t flirt at me.”  
  
“I thought,” Jaskier said, “maybe you were talking about women. Because if you wanted to, I don’t know, maybe have sex with that nice young man in our bed, I bet you could.”  
  
“Well, I know I _could_ ,” Geralt said, “I’ve always been good at that. Because of my -”  
  
“Mutations. I’ve heard about your –“  
  
“Why do you want me to sleep with that young man in our bed?”  
  
“I don’t want to,” Jaskier said, emptying a very big pint of very strong ale. “I just thought that maybe you did.”  
  
Geralt glanced at the young man they were talking about. The young man was coming closer. Also, he looked a little like Jaskier. “He doesn’t look bad.”  
  
“I _know_ ,” Jaskier in a somewhat unhappy voice. Maybe he had eaten something rotten, or drunk too much. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll spend the night with Roach that you can –“  
  
“Don’t leave me,” Geralt said and grabbed Jaskier’s arm.  
  
Jaskier stared at Geralt’s hand and then at Geralt’s face and then at the young man who was now standing right there, looking at Geralt. Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s arm a little tighter. He wasn’t going to give Jaskier a chance to leave him alone with this person who apparently wanted to sleep with him.  
  
“Hi,” said the person, “I like your hair. You must be the witcher. Would you like to go for a walk with me? Maybe around the castle, where we could be alone?”  
  
“Sorry,” Geralt said, “I would but I can’t. Jaskier here was just about to kiss me.”  
  
Jaskier frowned at him. “I was?”  
  
He grabbed Jaskier’s other arm as well and shook him a little. “ _Yes._ ”  
  
Jaskier sighed. “Geralt, are you sure you wouldn’t rather -”  
  
“No,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, you _promised_ you would kiss me.”  
  
Jaskier sighed again, then glanced at the young man who was still there and still looking at Geralt as if he wanted to touch Geralt’s hair or something. No one touched Geralt’s hair but Jaskier.  
  
“If you’re sure,” Jaskier said.  
  
Geralt was going to say that he most certainly was sure. He didn’t have time, though, because Jaskier took his face in between his hands, gently, as if he was about to kiss Geralt. Then he kissed Geralt.  
  
Geralt froze. Then he closed his eyes. Then he parted his lips and kissed Jaskier back.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, the young man who had been flirting with him was gone, Jaskier was a bit breathless and he himself was wondering how long it had been since he had kissed anyone. He had remembered it was just lips brushing against lips, but that hadn’t been the case at all.  
  
“Fuck,” he said.  
  
Jaskier was looking at him as if there was something on his face.  
  
“Do I have something on my face?”  
  
“No,” Jaskier said in an odd tone, then tugged his shirt. “Your shirt is getting too tight.”  
  
“I’m eating much more when I’m with you,” Geralt said. “You slow me down.”  
  
“Apparently,” Jaskier said. His fingers brushed Geralt’s stomach through the fabric. It was weird but not completely unpleasant. “Are you hungry?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good. I heard there’s cake somewhere in here.”  
  
“Fine,” Geralt said, took a step and then stopped. Jaskier was still staring at him. “What?”  
  
“Maybe we should hold hands,” Jaskier said, “just so that everyone will know we’re together.”  
  
“Great idea,” Geralt said and took Jaskier’s hand.  
  
  
**  
  
A little later, two women seemed like they were going to come to talk to Geralt. He grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders and kissed him on the mouth, and when he pulled away, he saw that the women were minding their own business.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “that was bad.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “What?”  
  
“Your kissing,” Jaskier said. He sounded like he wasn’t breathing properly. “You just _grabbed_ me and _took_ me – I mean, _kissed_ me. I’m afraid it didn’t look very convincing. We should probably practice a little.”  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, “fine.”  
  
“Maybe do it a bit slower,” Jaskier said, standing face to face with Geralt. He seemed a little nervous, which was odd, because apparently it was Geralt who was bad at kissing. “Touch me first.”  
  
“Okay,” Geralt said and patted Jaskier on the shoulder.  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” Jaskier said, but now he was smiling a little. “Not like _that._ At least _try_ to look like you’re thinking about making love.”  
  
“I’m not thinking about making love,” Geralt said and then realized he was, indeed, thinking about making love. He placed his hand on Jaskier’s neck. “Like this?”  
  
Jaskier shivered.  
  
“Is this better?” Geralt asked and followed the line of Jaskier’s chin with his thumb. Jaskier’s skin was so smooth, smoother than Geralt’s, even though they had shaved together a few hours ago. “You feel nice.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jaskier said in a weak voice. Perhaps he was getting ill. That would be bad.  
  
“Now what? Can I kiss you now?”  
  
“Maybe not just yet,” Jaskier said, placing his hands on Geralt’s sides, his fingertips feeling Geralt’s ribs through his clothes. “Just look at me like you like me. That’ll do the trick.”  
  
“I don’t like anyone,” Geralt said, looking at Jaskier, “but if I did, it’d probably be you, because you’re always there.”  
  
“Just don’t say things like that when you’re trying to convince someone that I’m your boyfriend.”  
  
“You’re the most confusing human I’ve ever met,” Geralt said, “in a good way.”  
  
Jaskier blinked. “That was a bit better.”  
  
“Can I kiss you now?” Geralt said. People were staring at them. He wanted to make it clear that no one should come to flirt at him.  
  
“There’s no rush,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. “Could you just, I don’t know, maybe stroke my hair? No one’s done that for me in a very long time.”  
  
“You stroke my hair all the time,” Geralt said and pushed his fingers into Jaskier’s hair. It was oddly sticky. “What did you put in here?”  
  
“I was just trying to look good. For you. For this party.”  
  
“You always look good,” Geralt said and rubbed his fingertips against Jaskier’s scalp. Apparently Jaskier was leaning against his touch. Around them, the crowd had gone oddly silent.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier said, taking a sharp breath. “Kiss me, Geralt. Kiss me now.”  
  
Geralt cleared his throat. He kind of liked having his fingers in Jaskier’s hair. But he would have liked it more if there hadn’t been the stuff in the hair. He should try again after Jaskier’s next bath. “Now?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said. “Please.”  
  
Geralt wanted to tell him that the _please_ was unnecessary. Jaskier was doing a favor for _Geralt._ But he was staring at Geralt urgently like once when a monster had grabbed his leg when he had been swimming and he had been about to both drown and get eaten before Geralt had saved him. And for some reason, it seemed easier to kiss Jaskier than to talk to him.  
  
He had only been kissing Jaskier for maybe a minute when he realized there was music. He pulled away and looked around. People were dancing.  
  
“Should we do that, too?” he asked and glanced at Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier was touching his mouth with his fingers. Geralt frowned. Maybe he had bitten Jaskier by accident. But he couldn’t see any blood.  
  
“Are you alright? Jaskier? Did I bite you?”  
  
Jaskier jumped a little. “Yes. No. Of course not. What? You don’t _dance._ ”  
  
“I did once,” Geralt said. “Maybe forty years ago.”  
  
“Well, then,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Great,” Geralt said and pulled him closer. “I had spent a night in brothel and the nice woman taught me this dance in the morning.”  
  
“Oh my god, Geralt,” Jaskier said.  
  
“What do you mean, _oh my god, Geralt?_ ” Geralt asked, although he wasn’t too curious. He had to concentrate on dancing. It had been forty years, after all. And Jaskier’s breathing against his neck was a little distracting as well.  
  
“I mean,” Jaskier said, dancing better than Geralt would have expected him to, or perhaps he was dancing worse himself, “that must be why you’re hugging me so tightly it feels like you’re trying to molest me rather than dance with me.”  
  
“I’m not,” Geralt said, although he kind of could feel all Jaskier’s body parts through their clothes.  
  
“Yes, you are,” Jaskier said, “but at least no one’s going to think we’re just friends.”  
  
“We aren’t friends,” Geralt said, “I don’t have friends.”  
  
“I wonder why,” Jaskier said and then possibly kissed Geralt’s neck.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said. He sounded tired. “Can we go?”  
  
Geralt pulled him closer. They were sitting on a bench at the side of the room. He had his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders, and Jaskier had a hand on Geralt’s thigh for some reason. “Maybe not yet.”  
  
“Could you ask the king to pay you?” Jaskier asked. “Because it’s past midnight and I’m about to fall asleep.”  
  
“You never fall asleep when you’re trying to hit on other men’s wives.”  
  
“You wore me out,” Jaskier said and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “Dancing with you was as tiring as fucking.”  
  
“You’ve never fucked me.”  
  
“That’s true,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure it’d be very tiring as well.”  
  
“I’d do all the work,” Geralt said, “obviously.”  
  
He felt Jaskier freeze. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I’m much stronger. Obviously, I’d do the work and you could just take it easy. Otherwise you wouldn’t last for five minutes.”  
  
“I _would_ ,” Jaskier said in a stubborn voice.  
  
“You wouldn’t. You don’t have the stamina.”  
  
“I have in bed.”  
  
“I don’t believe that.”  
  
“I’ll show you.”  
  
“I can’t understand why you’re arguing about this,” Geralt said. “I bet you’d like it my way.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Jaskier asked in a quiet voice. “And what’s your way, exactly?”  
  
“Well,” Geralt said. He had been thinking about it. Not much, of course. But sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep and Jaskier was _right there_ in the bed with him, sleeping like an uncomplicated human that he was, there wasn’t much else Geralt could think about. And it wasn’t exactly his fault that Jaskier kept making these tiny noises when he was asleep, like little sighs that made Geralt wonder if he sounded like that in bed.  
  
“Well?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt realized he was thinking about fucking Jaskier when he should have been talking about it.  
  
“Sorry. What I was going to say was that I’d lay you down in the bed first. Obviously. And undress you. You’re very slow with laces. And then I’d kiss you for some time, probably ten minutes or something, until you stopped talking.” He glanced at Jaskier. Perhaps he was going to argue that he would keep on talking much longer, which unfortunately seemed probable. But Jaskier didn’t say anything, only stared at Geralt with his eyes wide. “And then,” Geralt said, because clearly he hadn’t finished yet, “then I’d take your hands and keep them above your head, because that’d be the only way to make you take it slow. And then I’d make you take my fingers.”  
  
Jaskier had gone a little pale. “Oh my god, Geralt. You can’t hold my hands above my head if you’re at the same time trying to stick your fingers in my ass.”  
  
“I could,” Geralt said, “easily. I don’t need two hands for that.”  
  
“I bet you couldn’t,” Jaskier said quietly. “I bet you’d have to tie me up.”  
  
“Well, I could use magic for that.”  
  
Jaskier bit his lip.  
  
“Anyway,” Geralt said and stroked his hand up and down on Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier was shivering a little and Geralt didn’t want him to be cold. “Then I’d stroke you with my fingers until you’d be almost done.”  
  
“Fuck,” Jaskier said. “You’re a monster, Geralt.” He didn’t sound disapproving, though.  
  
“No, just a mutant. And then, finally, when you’d be going out of your mind, like, I don’t know, after two minutes or something, I’d put myself in you.”  
  
“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier said it, leaning against him, “just say it. You’d put your cock in my arse.”  
  
“I thought that was quite obvious.”  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said and cleared his throat, “if you’re trying to do something else than flirt with me now, you’re doing it wrong.”  
  
Geralt ignored that. He hadn’t finished telling Jaskier what he was about to do, and he couldn’t really think about two things at the same time. “And then I would fuck you for a while. And then when I’d be ready, I’d put my hand on your dick and you’d come.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jaskier said a little breathlessly.  
  
“Well, that would be about it,” Geralt said and paused. “Or we could cuddle afterwards if you wanted to. Anyway, what did you say?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just now.”  
  
“After you told me about how you’d fuck me?” Jaskier asked in a thin voice. “I don’t remember, Geralt. Nothing important.”  
  
“Great,” Geralt said. He was actually getting a bit tired. Maybe he should go to talk to the king and ask for his coin and that’d be it. They could go back to the inn, he and Jaskier. There they would be alone and there would be absolutely no reason for him to kiss Jaskier or have his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders like this.  
  
He pulled Jaskier a little closer, which was difficult because he was squeezing Jaskier quite tightly already.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “I can’t breathe.”  
  
“You don’t have stamina,” Geralt said, but he loosened his grip a little.  
  
  
**  
  
  
When Geralt finally went to talk to the king about his coin, the king was in a very good mood and very drunk.  
  
“I like you boyfriend,” the king said, patting Geralt on the shoulder. “I didn’t think you had it in you to look happy. To be honest, that was the reason I told you to come here today, to give you a chance to have a good time for a change. But I see now that it was unnecessary.”  
  
“It was,” Geralt said and took his coin.  
  
“Take good care of your man,” the king said. “I can see that he loves you.”  
  
“Goodbye,” Geralt said.  
  
But he thought about what the king had said later, when he walked back with Jaskier. It was a nice, quiet night, and there were no monsters on the road from the castle to the inn. Obviously, the king had been wrong. They were barely friends, Jaskier and Geralt. Geralt hadn’t quite figured out yet why Jaskier followed him all the time, but he had grown so used to it that he probably wouldn’t have known what to do without Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier didn’t love him, though. No one had loved him in a very long time, not since he had been a kid and still a human, and even that felt like a dream sometimes. You couldn’t love someone you didn’t know, and if someone knew Geralt, they couldn’t possibly love him.  
  
“Geralt?”  
  
He glanced at Jaskier. They were almost at the inn. “Are you cold?”  
  
“No. Geralt -”  
  
“You look cold. Come closer.”  
  
“I’m not cold,” Jaskier said but came closer to him. Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.  
  
  
**  
  
  
“I don’t think I can sleep,” Jaskier said, when they were in their room and lying in their bed.  
  
“Of course you can,” Geralt said. “You always sleep and I’m awake and I have to listen to your sighing.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him. “I don’t _sigh._ ”  
  
“Yes, you do,” he said. It was kind of nice that Jaskier was talking to him and not, for example, sleeping. “You always do. It sounds like this…” And he imitated perfectly the way Jaskier sounded when he sighed.  
  
“No,” Jaskier said. He sounded like he was about to laugh and also something else. “Bloody hell, Geralt, that sounded like a noise you’d make when you’d be making love.”  
  
“I don’t sound like that,” Geralt said.  
  
“Really? Because I think you might.”  
  
“No,” Geralt said, “I sound like…” And then he imitated perfectly the way he sounded when he was making love.  
  
Jaskier began laughing.  
  
“What? _What?_ You can’t laugh at me. That’s very… that’s so impolite, Jaskier.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, shifting closer to him under the blankets. “Geralt, you can’t possibly sound like that.”  
  
“But I do.”  
  
“No, you don’t.”  
  
“But I _do._ ”  
  
“No, you _don’t_ ,” Jaskier said and then pushed his knee in between Geralt’s. Geralt flinched. “Show me.”  
  
“Show you what?” Geralt asked. Jaskier’s knee felt quite nice against his own.  
  
“Show me that you sound like that when you’re making love.”  
  
Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again. It was difficult to think about anything else than Jaskier’s knee.  
  
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, but now his voice was quiet and vulnerable. Geralt knew that voice. He heard it every time he saved Jaskier from a certain death in claws of a monster Geralt had been hired to kill. “You idiot, you can’t fucking tell when someone’s flirting at you.”  
  
“I can,” Geralt said.  
  
“No, you can’t,” Jaskier said, shifting closer. Geralt could feel his warmth against his skin. He wanted to touch Jaskier very badly but wondered what Jaskier would think of that. “I’ve been trying to flirt at you for years.”  
  
Maybe if he touched Jaskier now, Jaskier would punch him in the face, which wouldn’t hurt at all except perhaps his feelings. Or maybe Jaskier wouldn’t punch him but would look at Geralt as if wondering why Geralt had betrayed his trust like that.  
  
“I’m trying to flirt at you, Geralt,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Yes,” Geralt said, but he wasn’t really listening. Maybe he could say to Jaskier that they’d have to practice their kissing a little more in case there would be more parties Geralt would take Jaskier as his date. That would make sense. Then he could kiss Jaskier and Jaskier would let him.  
  
“If you don’t kiss me right now,” Jaskier said, “I’m going to kiss you. I would’ve, _ages_ ago, but you always keep staring at me like you want to be alone and die, so I’ve been thinking that maybe you don’t like me very much after all.”  
  
“I like you,” Geralt said and then thought about what else Jaskier had said. “What did you say?”  
  
“That you want to be alone and die,” Jaskier said.  
  
“No,” Geralt said and frowned, “well, yes, sometimes, but not all the time. But what about before that?”  
  
Something shifted in Jaskier’s gaze. “I said that I’m going to kiss you.”  
  
Geralt frowned. “Right now?”  
  
Jaskier nodded.  
  
“But you can’t possibly -”  
  
“If you say one more time that I don’t have stamina, I’m going to punch you,” Jaskier said and blinked. “Well, of course I’m not going to punch you, that’d hurt me more than you. But I’m going to be very angry.”  
  
“But why would you kiss me?” Geralt asked.  
  
“Because I like your hair, you idiot,” Jaskier said, staring at him, “and everything else as well.”  
  
“I like your hair, too,” Geralt said.  
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “Really?”  
  
Geralt nodded.  
  
“ _Really?”_ Jaskier asked.  
  
Geralt nodded again.  
  
“Because sometimes I’m afraid I look stupid,” Jaskier said. “But what the hell.” And then he leaned in and kissed Geralt.  
  
  
**  
  
**  
  
**  
  
  
“I didn’t cry when you fucked me,” Jaskier said.  
  
“Yes, you did,” Geralt said. It was a nice day. The sun was shining. Roach was in a good mood. The road was flat. The wind was mellow. And Jaskier’s hands on Geralt’s waist were warm and only a little cheeky.  
  
“I didn’t. It was a grunt.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t.”  
  
“I was just trying to breathe.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “Yes, you were.”  
  
“Not like that. It wasn’t too much for me or anything.”  
  
“Yes, it was.” He bit his lip. “But you liked it.”  
  
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “but I didn’t cry. If you say once more that I cried, I’m going push my hand into your pants and make you regret it.”  
  
“Don’t,” Geralt said, grudgingly. “Roach will see.”  
  
“Roach doesn’t mind,” Jaskier said, but sadly, didn’t push his hand into Geralt’s pants. “Maybe I cried a little.”  
  
Geralt smiled.  
  
“Don’t smile,” Jaskier said. “It was about your hair. I only cried because your hair looked so pretty. And because, you know, it’s nice to finally get fucked by someone who’s saved your life multiple times in very diverse circumstances.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes. It’s a bit like you could do anything to me and I’d still trust you.”  
  
Geralt thought about that.  
  
“Besides, you cried too.”  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Geralt said, and then they argued about that for a little while.


End file.
